Shall We Dance?
by stupidsexymustang
Summary: Mustang and Hawkeye understood danger. But they were rather fond of a particularly dangerous game that no one would stop them from playing. Fourth prompt for Royai Week '15, "Understanding". Happy Royai Day!


**_A/N: Hello! Happy Royai Day! This is my first ever Royai Day, and I'm so happy to be contributing! This is the fourth prompt for Royai Week, "Understanding". This is a different style of writing for me, so I really hope you guys like it!_**

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This was dangerous. But then, all good dances have a sense of danger to them. Everything these two did was dangerous, why would dancing be any different? She looked so beautiful in her midnight blue dress, the skirt stopping just at her knees, full and shimmery, her hair falling softly around her shoulders and cascading down her back, covered perfectly by the high collar of the dress. She had taken his breath away the moment she entered the room, and she herself had permitted a long, drawn out look at him in his dark black waistcoat and suit that fit his toned frame just perfectly.

As soon as she walked up, he had asked her to dance. She had agreed, and Roy wordlessly passed his drink to Havoc, who knew better than to get in the way. He held his hand out to her and she took it, a genuine, closed smile playing in her eyes and on her lips as he led her out to the ballroom floor. Most people tended to think of Riza Hawkeye as harsh and emotionless, cold and focused, with no time for fun. Most people were complete idiots. And while what Roy Mustang knew about Riza Hawkeye could fill the first branch of Central's library, one of the most important things was this - Riza Hawkeye loved to dance, and Roy Mustang loved to dance with her.

He wrapped his left hand around her right and put his other on her waist, her left hand on his shoulder. Roy and Riza locked eyes, and from the moment the waltz began, the rest of the world vanished and all that existed in their reality was the music and each other. He stepped forward, she stepped back, his left, her right. He led, she followed. He spun her out, and pulled her back in. Dancing is and always has been about knowing and understanding the music and most importantly, knowing and understanding your partner. When Riza was 14, Roy had walked in on her attempting to teach herself to dance while listening to old phonograph records. He had immediately taken her in his arms and taught her the steps his aunt had taught him when he was younger, and she in turn had taught him to listen to the music and feel out the rhythm. To listen and to understand.

Roy lead, Riza followed, as with everything in their lives. He raised his arm and she spun under it, him catching her around the waist again once she had twirled twice. The music sped up and they kept pace, moving in time with the new rhythm. They had danced together so often. Nights under her father's roof, dancing and giggling and stepping on each other's feet. Learning how the other moved. One single night in Ishval when Riza had been on the verge of a complete breakdown, Roy had silently held his hand out and danced with her under the stars. No music, just the sound of their breathing, their feet shuffling across the sandy earth. He had known what she needed. Dancing made her feel human and ethereal all at the same time. Sometimes he'd come to her apartment and catch her dancing to music on the radio, like he had done when they were teenagers. He'd pull her into his arms and they would waltz around her living room, Black Hayate watching them in interest. Now the various military balls throughout the years always held one dance where they found themselves out on the floor together. It was just a dance, as dangerous as it might be. Everyone could see them. The way his hand held her waist, the way her hand gripped his hand, the way their eyes never once left each other except to spin, and then they always fell right back into place. They had an understanding, those two, and it was written in the way they moved.

"Perfect partners," people would say.

"Amazing form," some would pronounce.

"Worst kept secret in Amestris," Havoc would mutter, drinking from both his and Roy's glasses. He knew this game was dangerous. He worried for them. But it was just a dance.

Left forward, right side, left close, right forward, left side, right close, turn, repeat. He spun her out and pulled her in close. She was intoxicating and he was drinking her up. He was fire and she was drowning in his heat. Left forward, right side, left close, step, turn. His hand on her waist traveled to the small of her back as he dipped her deeply, scooping her back into his arms when the song met its crescendo, her leg hitched up and wrapped around his thigh. They stared into each other's eyes again, onyx meeting amber, breathing heavily, lips much too close...and then they heard the sound of clapping and the spell was over.

They broke apart, turning to the band and clapping along with everyone else. They did not dance with each other again the rest of the night. It was always just once. But after the ball was over, they would entwine and dance together again, in the comfort of Roy's apartment. They understood each other in that dance even better than in this one. Dancing was dangerous, but they were a dangerous pair. And after all...it was just a dance.

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 _Hope you enjoyed! Please favorite and review! Also, the song I had in my head that they were dancing to was "Waltz in E", composed by Yurima for cello. It doesn't end correctly, but the general feeling is there._


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